


Day 5 - Shopping

by marvel_and_mischief



Series: December Writing Challenge [5]
Category: Bloodsucking Bastards (2015), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Max being very crude at the end, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Max comes to a realisation when you take him Christmas shopping.
Relationships: Max Phillips/Reader, Max Phillips/You
Series: December Writing Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035513
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Day 5 - Shopping

Max was trying his hardest not to grumble, he really was. The way your eyes were sparkling in the lights on the trees, the joy radiating off you when you spotted the store window decorations warmed his unbeating heart and he wished he could stop this moment in time and keep you here forever. But as a vampire, Max ran cold on a normal day. _Here?_ He was fucking freezing and he was not enjoying himself. 

You had bundled him up in gloves, a thick scarf, layers upon layers of shirts and jumpers under his coat until he looked twice the size he actually was. He fought you over the woollen hat however, not wanting to mess his perfectly styled hair up. And then you had dragged him out the door towards the high street. 

“Honey, I need you to tell me you’re nearly finished,” Max was being optimistic considering it had been less than an hour since you had left your shared apartment. 

You turned away from where you were looking at a window display, an animatronic Santa waving at the two of you. Max’s expression hadn’t changed at all, but you knew he wouldn’t be here if he really didn’t want to.

“I know, I just need to find something for my mom and then we’ll go home,” you couldn’t help but chuckle as he melodramatically rolled his eyes at you. You stepped towards him, snow lightly crunching under your feet, and wrapped your arms around one of his, pulling him further into the crowds of the Christmas shoppers. 

“I am being incredibly patient. But I’ve imagined ripping out the throats of everyone who has walked passed us so far,” Max growled into your ear.

“Patience and restraint. Two of the things I wouldn’t usually associate with you,” you teased. Max had drank from a blood bag shortly before leaving the apartment, so you weren’t worried he would go through with his urges. He was just being grumpy.

“Hilarious,” he muttered, casting a glance around at the shops you were dragging him passed. He supposed he should be more appreciative of the sales spiel each of the shops were peddling. It was the same kind of rubbish he encouraged his employees to push onto unsuspecting customers all the time. 

But none of this was the normal kind of spiel. It was Christmas spiel. About how everything in life was perfect if you brought the ideal present for your loved ones, with pictures of the _‘quintessential American family’_ everybody should strive for.

He looked down at you, hanging off his arm, making him go shopping for a present for your mom because you wanted his company, no matter how short-tempered he was being. You would always be too good for him. He bent down to place a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

You felt his lips on you and smiled, stopping outside a jewellery shop. 

“What was that for?” You asked with a chuckle, in awe of the shiny diamonds on display.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max mumbled, not wanting to admit to where his mind was taking him. 

You weren’t going to push him, instead pointing to a pair of emerald earrings, deciding to put Max out of his misery. 

-

“There was something on your mind at the jewellery store,” you carefully pried. You were resting your legs across Max’s lap on the couch, a mug of hot cocoa in hand and a forgotten black and white movie on the television. Max was massaging your feet, an automatic reaction that you realised with time was one of his many small ways of showing affection for you. 

Max sighed, deciding to focus on the movie he wasn’t even watching, his hands halting at your ankle. 

“Things will be okay between us, in the future, right?” He asked tentatively. There was a nervousness in his voice you hadn’t heard before. He had never not been confident in all the time you knew him, hesitancy in any aspect of his life wasn’t in his nature. Or so you had thought. 

“What do you mean, Max? I’m happy with you,” you insisted, placing your cup on the side table and sitting up.

“All these Christmas commercials, the ideal _family_ they push onto us, you’ll never have that with me.”

You frowned at how defeated he sounded, like he was readying himself for you to leave at his confession. 

“Max look at me,” you cupped his face and encouraged him to face you. He was pulling an exaggerated pout, which was very Max, but you refrained from laughing because you could tell underneath it he was bearing his soul to you. 

“Max, I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell in love with you. I knew this wouldn’t be a conventional relationship.”

A frown joined his pout, which you thought was adorable. You pressed kisses to the wrinkles on his brow and heard him pleasantly moan.

“Sales always lies, you should know this,” you whispered, rubbing soft circles into the apples of his cheeks.

“I _do_ know that,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close to his chest, pulling you into his lap.

“So stop being grumpy,” you chastised, a teasing grin on your face.

“Fuck me into a better mood then,” you guffawed at the obscene way he wriggled his eyebrows, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. You were glad to have your Max back.


End file.
